


Mean Green Fightin' Machine!

by CookieCatSU



Series: The Bub Chronicles [7]
Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Bubby and Gordon butt heads as usual, Coomer dresses like an idiot, I just like the idea that Bubby and Coomer both adopt the other's signature color as their favorite, Lowkey Frenrey, M/M, also the whole basis of this fic, benrey is an alien, it's in like one sentence, just FYI, no fashion sense, that's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: Bubby's favorite color has always been blue. Then Dr. Coomer enters his life, and it becomes unabashedly green.
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Series: The Bub Chronicles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825966
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Mean Green Fightin' Machine!

Bubby's favorite color has always been blue. He spots a splotch of it on a button pinned to the chest of one of the scientists scurrying around his tube, and instantly takes a liking to it. It's a calming hue, unlike the putrid yellow of the fluid they leave him floating in day and night, cool as opposed to the stark white sharpness of the lights. It's nice, and makes Bubby feel all fuzzy when he looks at it.

Having a favorite anything is also totally opposed to Black Mesa's rhetoric, totally opposed to what he is. He isn't supposed to have thoughts, outside what he can do for Black Mesa. A clone, having preferences? Ridiculous. Not allowed.

So, Bubby claims it for that reason if no other, clutching that forbidden personal snippet close to his heart. Claims it, as a small rebellion against his superiors.

He imagines, coming out of his tube, and proclaiming it, that, 'Yes, my name is Bubby, and my favorite color is blue' and feels a little less cold.

* * *

Dr. Harold Coomer has the brightest green eyes Bubby's ever seen. Green like deep wooded forests and emeralds and noxious chemicals. Bubby doesn't think much of it, when he first sees them.

Bubby doesn't think much of him, at first. He isn't sure when that changes, now that he thinks about it.

Maybe it's when he brings that first book to read to him? Or perhaps it's the first time he falls asleep outside his tube after talking to Bubby for hours, like he's a real person, and his head is tilted against the glass and his moustache flutters and Bubby can see the way the polish on his nails glitters just so in the light? Maybe it's the first taste of coffee on his lips? Or the way he looks absolutely scandalized when Bubby cracks a joke at just the right (or wrong) moment, and juice squirts out his nose?

It might be the way Bubby finds himself able to get lost in those eyes, those green, green eyes.

It might be all of that. Or none of that.

It might be that green is the color of freedom, these days. Of happiness. Spurned preconceptions and victorious triumph.

Hell if Bubby knows, at this point.

* * *

"What's your favorite color?" Coomer asks, as if that shit actually matters.

Bubby indulges him, because Bubby's a good guy. Patient and all that garbage.

"Blue" He says.

He doesn't ask Coomer what his is, but he offers it anyway.

"I've always been fond of green. It reminds me of home" And he grins, all sappy and shit.

"That's cool" Bubby replies with a shrug.

"I suppose we should get back to work?" Dr. Coomer asks, and he snatches his marker back up in his hands, and goes back to his equations. The ink is aqua green.

* * *

Coomer starts wearing blue shirts to work. Bubby thinks that’s weird as hell, because Dr. Coomer always came to work with some varying shade of green on. Never another color. Never yellow or red or white. Always green. Bubby had been convinced he didn’t have anything else in his wardrobe.

Which is why he's so shitting confused when he sees him walking into the lab that morning.

“What’s up with that?” He asks, about 20 minutes in to just staring at him, with eyes squinted and brows raised.

“What, Bubby?”

He points at the shirt. It’s teal and turquoise blue, with swirling white lines reminiscent of ocean waves. Dr. Coomer pulls at the edges, hands sliding over polyester fabric, expression particularly satisfied, “Oh, this? It's a nice shade of blue, isn't it?" He laughs, "I got it for 50% percent off at The Discount Shack!"

"No, I mean, why the hell are you wearing that?" Dr. Coomer gives him an odd look, "You always wear green. Aren't ya half leprechaun or some shit"

"Oh, Bubby, you're a riot! I just thought I'd try something new" He averts his eyes, and Bubby swears he sees his face darken a bit.

"Do you like it?"

It's Bubby's turn to get red in the face. 

"Yeah. It's alright"

* * *

"What's your favorite color?"

Bubby glares at him from over the test chamber's control panel. He's switching on the gauges, making sure they're set up for when the test, and the mayhem, really starts. "What kind of question is that? Are we fifth graders, now?"

"No, I just hardly know you and I'm really struggling to think of anything to say, alright?" Gordon huffs, "Usually people engage in some small talk before they just plunge into the task at hand, you know"

"Dumbass" Bubby mutters beneath his breath.

"What?"

"I said you're a dumbass" Bubby half shouts.

"Play nice, Bubby" Dr. Coomer counters, with a wide grin, "Don't we want Gordon to feel welcome?"

"Not really" Bubby mutters, especially quiet, because he'd rather Harold not hear him. Then he might have to apologize, and that's the last thing he wants to do right now.

Gordon hears him, and glares bitterly at the side of his head. Bubby ignores him.

About thirty seconds pass in relative silence, which Bubby relishes in like it's mana from the heavens, because Black Mesa is never quiet for long. Which Freeman only proves by piping up ten seconds after that, with a bitter little huff.

"Still haven't answered my question"

"Oh, right" Bubby hardly glances up, "It's green"

Gordon scowls, "That's a... weird one"

"It's nice" Bubby says, and his tone softens, as he gazes at Dr. Coomer from across the room, who has his hand pressed to his silver shot curls, and is indeed decked out all in green beneath his lab coat, down to those stupid little, clover speckled socks he liked so much. Bubby, smiling warmly now, shakes himself from his stupor, and turns to Gordon with a glare and a defensive growl, 

"You gotta problem?"

"I mean… not with that, nah"

* * *

Bubby's never telling Gordon anything ever again. He can't keep his mouth shut, he swears.

The wonder couple, Gordon and his dumbass alien, are talking in the kitchen… well, more like putting on a little performance really. Bubby's only in the next room, so he can see them, and he can _hear_ them, and they absolutely know it.

"What's your favorite color, Bubby?" Gordon says, high pitched and mocking.

Benrey grins in return, like the little shit he is, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest. His navy beanie slides down his forehead a bit. "green, he says, with no hesitation"

"Green, you say? Wonder what that means" Gordon directs a smug smirk in Bubby's direction, before pretending to swoon.

Jackass.

Bubby flushes, and grabs the first item he can reach to throw at them, which just happens to be one of Sunkist's heavy ass chew toys.

"Both of you get on my damn nerves!" He yells, as they scatter, guffawing like idiots.


End file.
